


Let Me Help You

by baloobird



Series: Ace Irondad and Spiderson [13]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: Anti-Starker, Anxiety, Asexual Character, Asexual Peter Parker, Fluff, Gen, Platonic Cuddling, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Peter Parker, SO MUCH FLUFF, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Gets a Hug, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony Stark is a Good Dad, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 01:47:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baloobird/pseuds/baloobird
Summary: All that Tony wanted to hear is his kid's voice, to hear his kid's voice and pray that it will ease this anxiety that has for absolutely no reason.But he wasn't expecting Peter to already know that and chip in to help.
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Ace Irondad and Spiderson [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1750639
Comments: 41
Kudos: 427





	Let Me Help You

**Author's Note:**

> I was feeling soft and I wrote this lol, I hope you enjoy!!! 💜
> 
> There is no anxiety attack, it doesn't get that bad.

Tony hates himself for one reason and one reason only.

Well, he hates himself for a lot of reasons, but his one is highest on the list, at the moment.

Anxiety.

It’s such a bitch.

And it’s the last thing he needs right now since he’s actually trying to sleep for once.

But there he lays, legs fidgeting at the foot of his bed, staring up at the ceiling as he feels heart race for absolutely  _ no fucking reason. _

The man looks over at his wife, seeing Pepper sound asleep without a care in the world.

He is  _ so _ unbelievably jealous.

Tony starts scanning all over his bedroom as if he’s watching a tennis match, waiting for  _ something _ to attack them because why else would he be so jumpy, so…on edge?

It doesn’t do shit to help, however. With the room as dark as it is, ordinary items look extraordinary in the worst ways possible: the billionaire’s still half-full duffel bag from his last business trip looks like some kind of wonky creature about to eat them, a few of Pepper’s dresses he can see in their closet looks like an alien is about to kill them in their sleep.

_ This is so fucking stupid. _

He can’t stay in this bed, the genius knows that. No matter the tossing and turning, he’s not getting to sleep with his mind turning everything out of proportion.

The hero finally swings his legs over the side of his bed, carefully so he doesn’t wake up Pepper. What the hell is there to do at -

He grabs his phone to look at the time.

_ One o’clock, are you fucking kidding me? _

Too damn early to stay up but too damn  _ late _ to stay up at the same time.

Tony props his elbows on his knees, putting his head in his hands.

_ Calm down, Tony. _

_ It’s a fucking duffel bag. _

_ Is this karma for being too lazy to unpack? _

His right knee starts bouncing up a storm, making him drop his arms. 

_ That is not calming down, you fucking idiot. _

He continues looking around his room, using the familiarity to try to settle down but it’s all a wasted effort.

How can he be here but not  _ all the way here? _

_ Oh my God, I’m a space cadet. _

Tony quickly leaves his room, taking his phone with him and putting it in the pocket of his sweats. Maybe he’ll fare better on the couch anyway.

After he turns on every light in the house, that is.

The man turns on the kitchen light - can’t let that alien jump out and scare him, of course - and turns towards the direction to make some coffee.

But he stops himself as he opens the cabinet where the mugs are located. 

He already has an anxiety issue, one at this very moment, in fact, so he can’t in good conscience fix himself a drink that’s just going to make it worse.

So Tony resigns himself to some hot tea that Pepper got for both her and her husband, hoping to get him to lay off the caffeinated beverage.

And this time, it’s actually going to work.

He finds a teabag marked “nightly calm” and snatches it,  _ anything _ to get his ass to sleep is a win in his book. The genius fills the kettle with water and puts it on the stove, turning the burner the highest it goes.

Here comes the annoying part:

He has to wait for the fucking water to boil.

Tony groans in frustration as he sits on one of the barstools, his right knee instantly mimicking a bobblehead once again. He takes deep breaths in an effort to slow down his heart rate but that doesn’t do jack shit so he does it to keep his mind off the worst such as what if his heart actually bursts right out of his chest?

He continues taking deep breaths, crossing his arms on the kitchen counter and resting his head on top of them, staring into the abyss of his granite countertop.

The coolness from the granite is refreshing, the billionaire admits, going so far as to rest his head directly onto it, sighing ever so slightly in temporary relief.

For just a few seconds, he focuses on that chill, letting his breathing get under control as he tries to still that knee.

But then the kettle starts to whistle.

Tony’s head jerks right up, taking a split-second to get over the dizziness before walking - wobbling? - to the stove, removing the kettle from the heat before the sound gets too loud.

At least he’s coherent enough to turn off the stove. 

He fills his mug with the boiling water, mindlessly watching the teabag rise to the surface, and another thought hits him.

Now he has to wait for the fucking tea to steep.

_ This is why I don’t fuck with tea, damn it. _

Instead of literally staring at his mug for the next five or so minutes, he takes his phone out of his pocket and turns it on to his home screen, noticing a text message he apparently missed that was sent to him about twenty minutes ago.

From his spider-kid.

Tony pulls up the message, positioning himself to lean against the counter, and sees that it’s a screenshot of some headline from The Daily Bugle saying how could the Avengers let this “spider-menace” come to their aid when he’s  _ such a disgrace _ to New York City?

The dozen or so laughing emojis that followed obviously show that Peter hasn’t taken any of this to heart.

Wait,  _ Peter. _

Tony looks again at the time the text messages were sent. It hasn’t even been thirty minutes.

The boy could still be up.

Without bothering to wait for logic to catch up to him, the man quickly taps his protege’s contact, smiling briefly at the photo of him fast asleep while upside down, and taps the call button, putting the phone up to his ear and bobbing the teabag to make it steep faster.

Peter picks up on the second ring, and his hero can’t tell if that’s what he wanted or not, “Mr. Stark?”

That voice.

The adorably innocent voice of his kid.

Tony lets out a relieved breath, a smile barely escaping him, “Uh, um,” he starts. He didn’t think about what to say if the tyke were to actually pick up and he's mentally kicking himself, “Hey, Pete…how’s it going?” 

_ Wow, I’m a moron. _

“Uh, what?” The teen asks, sounding understandably confused, “It’s like one-thirty and you’re just calling to ask ‘what’s up'? Are you okay?”

_ What a great fucking question. _

“Uh, I could ask you the same question,” Tony retorts, “What are you doing up?”

“I could ask  _ you _ the same question,” Peter says, a hint of smugness in his voice, “For real, though, is everything okay?” He asks, voice turning serious.

The billionaire briefly pulls the phone away from his ear to take another panicky breath, bringing his tea-filled mug to the living room and settling onto the couch, “Yeah,” he starts, slowly getting a hold of his bearings, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re kidding me, right? Mr. Stark, I’m not an idiot -”

“Whatever you’re thinking, don’t, okay? I just wanted to check up on you.”

_ And hear your voice. _

“At this time of night?”

_ “Yes, _ at this time of night,” Tony says, taking hearty sips of his tea, regretting not taking the teabag out of the mug and now the string is hitting his mouth. He continues taking more deep breaths as he asks, “Whatcha, uh, whatcha up to?”

“Um,” the teenager starts, sounding sheepish, “Watching YouTube videos of people making mac and cheese.”

_ “Mac and cheese?” _ The mechanic asks with a snort, “Why? And this late at night of all things?”

“Dude -”

“Don’t  _ ‘dude’ _ me -”

_ “Dude, _ y’know I’m a teenager, right? Staying up late on Friday nights and watching YouTube videos is kinda what we do, it’s in the job description.”

“Most teenagers stay up late watching porn and you’re over here watching cooking videos,  _ that _ makes perfect sense.”

“First of all, gross. Why would I watch people have sex when  _ I _ don’t wanna have sex? Food wins every time.”

Tony can’t help but laugh into his tea as he takes more sips, not realizing how much his kid’s distractions are really helping him, “And what is it about mac and cheese that has you  _ so _ enamored?”

“Do you have any idea how many different ways you can make it? It’s kinda insane like some people make the fancy sauce, but some don’t. Some use one cheese, some use like seven, do you want it with milk or half-and-half, do you bake it in the oven or nah? Seriously, the possibilities are endless.”

Tony laughs fully, gradually getting louder over a few-second span, “I can’t believe I just listened to you ramble about a fucking pasta dish.”

The kid starts giggling as well, making his father figure’s heart rate continue to lessen and lessen as he finishes off his tea. “Well,” Peter says, “It worked, didn’t it?”

“What worked?” Tony asks in confusion.

“Are you still feeling jumpy?”

_ How in the fuck? _

The man takes a good look at himself: he is now laying against one of the throw pillows on the armrest of the couch, with his now relaxed legs stretched across the cushions. He’s also not feeling near as on edge as he was, and his heart rate has decreased exponentially.

He’s not quite there yet but the hero is a hell of a lot better than when he thought he saw a demon posing as his duffel bag.

But how the fuck did the kid know about that?

“Uh, not bad…how’d you know?”

“Why else would you be calling me at almost two o’clock in the morning?”

Tony sighs in despair, “I’m sorry, kid -”

“No, don’t be sorry! I-I’m glad you called, it’s nice. Um, how’re you feeling now?”

“A lot better, thanks to you. How do you always say the right things to distract me?”

“I don’t know,” Peter says with a snort, “Whenever you get jumpy I just say random things to get you to stop thinking about it and you’re in luck, ‘cuz I was actually watching like a million mac and cheese videos…now I really want mac and cheese.”

“Of course you do,” Tony says, still chuckling at this damn kid, “Well, next time you come over, you better make me some, you oughta be an expert by now.”

“Do you have any idea how hard it’s gonna be to pick just one? They all look so good, and besides, I’ll just burn it anyway.”

“Hey, don’t sell yourself short. May already can’t cook, you’re our only hope.”

“How cute that you think she’d let me near an oven.”

_ “She _ shouldn’t be allowed near an oven. I still get nightmares about that meatloaf.”

_ “Same, _ and now she’s made it her life’s mission to perfect it…save me.”

“Oh, God,” Tony replies, still laughing despite himself, “Text me the second you see her put that monstrosity in a loaf pan and I’ll make up an excuse, how ‘bout that?”

“You’re the best. I’ll try to make mac and cheese as a ‘thank you’ gift.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Both heroes erupt in light chuckles with Tony briefly covering his mouth so he doesn’t wake up his wife. Peter then asks suddenly, with his mentor still in mid-chuckle, “Seriously though, how’re you feeling?”

The man’s smile falls as reality hits him once again, “Pretty good, honestly. Not a hundred percent but decent.”

“Do you want me to come over?”

“Pete, it’s like two in the morning -”

“So? I can literally swing by if you want -”

“Peter, I’m not letting you out and about this late. What would May say -”

“She’s not even here, she’s working the overnight shift. I can just leave a note or something -”

“Peter, it’s  _ way _ too damn late -”

“Mr. Stark,  _ do you want me to come over?” _ The teenager asks, voice surprisingly serious. 

And he does.

Tony absolutely does.

But no way in hell is he about to admit it.

_ “Peter,” _ the mechanic starts, “Y’know I can’t let you ‘spider-man’ over here -”

“You always help me out when my anxiety’s outta whack, why can’t I do the same for you? Let me help you, Mr. Stark.”

The billionaire sighs frustratingly but lets a smile slip all the same.

_ This damn kid. _

“Well -”

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes.’” Before Tony can even register, he hears scuffling, ruffling from what he assumes is his mentee’s suit.

“You better  _ not _ be coming over here.”

But Peter doesn’t hear him. Instead mumblings are said, as if the kid is talking to himself, “Okay, gotta leave a note for May, I’ll just text her that Mr. Stark is picking me up so she won’t completely freak out.”

“Peter?” Tony asks, “What are you doing?”

His intern doesn’t answer, too distracted by the task at hand, “Do I seriously have  _ one _ clean pair of underwear left, are you kidding me -”

_ “Peter!”  _

“What?” 

“What’re you doing?”

“Packing,  _ duh, _ I mean I like the suit and all but I don’t really wanna sleep in it.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually doing this -” Tony cuts himself off as he hears a zipper on the other line, probably the kid closing up his duffel bag.

_ Maybe  _ his _ won’t look like a demon. _

“Welp, believe it,” the young hero says, his mentor imagining the grin that’s no doubt spread across the boy's face. Peter then concludes, “Bye, Mr. Stark, see you in a few -”

“Peter,  _ no, _ for God’s sakes -” the call ends before Tony can finish, the man grunting as he sits up. He addresses his AI, raking his fingers through his hair in exasperation, “FRIDAY, unlock the windows for Peter.”

“Certainly, boss.”

Now the man’s anxiety has increased tenfold, not from him but his worry for his kid who’s now out in New York City in the dead of night all by himself.

Tony begrudgingly gets off of the couch, dragging his feet to stare out the window, observing the streetlights and buildings, some vacant and some with lights on filled with people working various night shifts.

He stares out the window until his spider-boy comes into view, duffel bag wrapped around his shoulders, the eyes on his mask wide with adorable excitement.

Despite seeing him coming, the billionaire jumps when Peter lands on the window in front of him. Tony can swear he sees the outline of his kid’s smile from behind the mask.

He opens the window and the vigilante jumps right in, taking off his mask the second his mentor closes it back. The mechanic turns around, intent on glaring at the kid but it turns to a softened smile once the tyke surprises him with a hug.

Tony wraps his arms around his protege without a care in the world about the overnight bag in the way. With one hand, he takes extra effort to ruffle his hair, to feel the sense of familiarity in those curls.

His kid actually came over here to make him feel better.

_ What dream am I living in? _

“How’re you feeling?” Peter asks, tightening his grip on his father figure. 

Said man sighs contently, resting his chin on the top of his kid’s head, hands rubbing down his back in comfort for both him and his mentee, “Better…a lot better.”

“You better not be lying -”

“I’m not, I promise.” Tony tightens his grip on the spider-boy, letting another smile escape him, “This is nice, I’ll admit.”

“Good,” Peter replies with a tired smile, snuggling more under his hero’s chin, “What d’ya wanna do now?”

“Not sleep, if that’s what you’re insinuating.”

“Mr. Stark -”

“I’m just not tired -” the billionaire cuts himself off with a yawn, his body betraying him at the worst possible time.

_ Traitor. _

_ “Really _ now?” Peter asks, his voice dripping with victory as he gradually lifts his head, eyes softening as he looks into his mentor’s eyes, “We can watch TV if you want. Sometimes having sound on helps.”

_ Anything if it means I don’t have to see any more aliens in my closet. _

“Yeah,” Tony responds defeatedly, “Want anything, you hungry?”

“Unless it’s mac and cheese, nah.”

The man snorts as he turns around to head back for the couch, hearing the kid press the spider emblem on his suit which gives him the assumption that he’s changing clothes right then and there, “Y’know you got a bedroom to do that, right?” He asks with a chuckle, keeping his face forward as he tells his AI to turn on the TV.

“It’s just you, and it’s not like I’m  _ completely _ naked under this thing.” In less than a minute, the spiderling leaps over the couch and lands right next to his hero, clad in a basic T-shirt and pajama pants with drawstrings, “Whatcha wanna watch?”

“You did that way too damn fast.”

Peter grabs the remote on the end table closest to him and starts flipping through channels, “Changing for P.E. does that.” 

“Ah, I get it.” The older genius turns his head TV as the tyke continues flipping through the channels. After a few seconds, he says, “Stop.”

The teenager obliges and focuses on what’s currently playing,  _ “The Golden Girls?” _

“Yep, an oldie but a goodie, pun intended.”

_ And absolute zero percent chance of demons and aliens. _

Peter snickers as he puts down the remote, settling into his father figure’s side, “I’m rubbing off on you with the puns.”

“I already had the puns, you just say them better.” Tony puts his arm around him, relishing in the warmth and safety of his kid.

Now  _ that’s _ weird to think about, he thinks. Normally the teen is seeking out  _ his _ comfort, not the other way around. And how in the hell can a fifteen-year-old actually make him feel  _ safe? _ If a demon or something actually did break into the tower, Tony would be the one to step up before his protege ever got the chance.

But there’s something about the kid right now, his head nestling into the crook of his father figure’s shoulder. Tony sees his chest moving with the rhythm of his breathing and knowing that Peter is alive and well is what keeps him calm.

He still can’t wrap his head around it.

Peter dropped everything just to make sure Iron Man is okay.

Because underneath that armor lies a human being, a human being who does not always feel like a hero.

Especially tonight.

Tony continues comfortingly rubbing his kid’s upper arm and shoulder, occasionally rotating to ruffle his hair, noticing that he’s feeling a complete one-eighty from where he was barely an hour ago.

He can’t hear his heartbeat anymore, so his heart rate is finally back to normal. Sitting here, watching a sitcom of old ladies talking about life while eating cheesecake, it makes him feel…almost calm.

Like he could go to sleep.

Right here.

And right now.

The mechanic starts to feel his head droop with exhaustion and quickly jerks it back up, trying to focus on what this episode is about but coming up empty.

_ Maybe they just eat cheesecake the whole show. _

_ Cheesecake, now  _ that _ sounds good. _

“Pete,” Tony starts, his voice a bit groggy from the sleep that’s slowly taking over him, “After you make mac and cheese, you need to learn how to make a cheesecake.”

“Why?” The boy asks with a snicker, turning his head towards his hero and resting his chin on the other’s chest, “Is this show making you want cheesecake?”

“Not my fault it looks delicious,” the billionaire retorts with a smirk, “We’ll have a cheese party.”

That elicits another giggle from the kid, “Sounds good to me. And meatloaf is  _ not _ allowed.”

“Agreed.”

They continue watching the show, letting it cloud their realities and darkness for as long as they can. Tony, however, feels his head droop a few more times, each one making him lean closer and closer to the arm of the couch.

But he doesn’t want to sleep.

What if he wakes up with that stupid anxiety thing again?

What if he dies in his sleep because his heart gave out from all of the excessive pumping?

“You can go to sleep, I’m not going anywhere,” Peter states, wrapping his arms around the older man’s torso.

Of fucking course the kid knows what’s really going on.

_ We’ve been around each other too long. _

The older hero sighs in utmost defeat, knowing he’s just fighting a losing battle, and grabs the throw pillow closest to him, propping it up against the top of the couch so he can sleep without worrying about a bad neck, “Keep the TV on.”

“Yup.” The tyke grabs a blanket from the top of the couch and drapes it over the two of them, “Don’tcha wanna lay down? We have the whole couch.”

“You’ll get squished.”

_ “Actual _ spiders get squished, that’s child’s play.” Peter smiles as he grabs the pillow his mentor is using and reaches over his lap to prop it against the armrest, “Better sleep here before I take your spot,” he says smugly.

“I think you already have,” Tony responds with a tired chuckle, rubbing his eyes with sleep. 

He lays down on the pillow, tugging his legs out from under his kid so he can be completely horizontal. Peter does the same, bringing the blanket up to their shoulders and snuggling more into his father figure, gaze on the TV across from them.

The billionaire allows himself to be squished between his kid and the back cushions of the couch. He immediately wraps his arm around him and brings him close. 

No way is he letting this kid out of his sight.

He hears his mentee hum in what sounds like content, making the man smile as he feels his eyes start to droop once again but this time, he has no plans on stopping them.

“Thank you,” he whispers, giving his spider-boy a light ruffle of his hair. 

The teen lets out another hum as he mumbles, “Anytime,” finally succumbing to sleep.

Tony’s eyes close soon after, letting the voices of Bea Arthur and Betty White keep his brain void of all thoughts, his heart from pounding out of his chest like it’s done so many times before.

He sleeps for a good while despite being squished on the couch.

Maybe that’s the secret to a good night's sleep:

Having a spider-boy around who can cure anxiety without the need for any drugs or hot tea.

_ Now that’s one hell of an advertisement. _

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!! I'm also on Tumblr @baloobird


End file.
